The train pulled into Southampton at 10:18, delayed because of the heavy snow. Her heart was racing with anticipation that Jackie O’Shea had received her message and was waiting at the station. She collected her things, fixed her blouse and primped her hair before stepping off the train into the cold night, eerily quieted from the falling snow. She pulled her jacket collar tight around her neck and walked along the open, but covered, waiting area. No Jackie.
“Damnit!” she said aloud. Climbing back aboard the train after she heard the “all aboard” call from the conductor whose black wool coat was dusted with white snow, Trish felt a wave of disappointment sweep over her as she made her way back to her seat. The loud rush of air releasing the brakes was followed by the jerking forward of the train causing Trish to fall towards the rear of the car into the arms of Jackie O’Shea.
Her heart again racing and her face flushed, Trish looked into his gray blue eyes and said, “Where the hell have you been dream boy?”
“Wandering aimlessly in the snow. How ‘bout you pretty lady?”
The train finally got into gear, chugging along rhythmically allowing Trish and Jackie to take their seats.
“I brought wine,” Jackie said holding up a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and two glasses.
Trish, sitting next to Jackie O’Shea, took his free hand in both of hers, looked into his eyes and said, “I want to thank you for getting me home last week. I was a bit drunk and honestly don’t remember much after falling asleep listening to the melody of your beautiful voice regale me with tales of pirates and maidens and chivalry.”
“But I was talking about how I had dropped out of college…”
She placed her finger on his lips, cutting off his thought. “You regaled me sir, and made sure I was tucked into my castle safe and sound before quietly slipping off to battle more windmills, making the kingdom a safer place.”
Jackie O’Shea was speechless.
Trish Monroe was falling.
He stared into her blue eyes. She into his. They kissed. A wineglass dropped to the floor and shattered. They continued to kiss.
Jackie woke up early, finding his way around the kitchen enough to make a pot of coffee. Looking out at the falling snow, he decided to clear the walkway and driveway as soon as he finished his cup of coffee. “If I can find a shovel,” he thought.
An hour and a half later, Jackie O’Shea walked back into the Montauk house, soaking wet and chilled to the bone, having successfully found a shovel he managed to clear the walkway and driveway but the persistent fall of snow made his hard work all for naught. Trish Monroe was waiting for him in the living room, sitting on the large, blue sofa, sipping a hot cup of tea, wearing only a warm, pink terrycloth robe. “You’re still here?” she asked jokingly.
“Any coffee left? I’m frozen,” Jackie said as he shed his wet coat and boots.
“I’ll get you some,” Trish said, setting down her cup, making her way to the kitchen, unaware of Jackie’s stare as he watched her long, shapely legs slip out of the opening of her robe and her long blonde hair falling to her shoulders as she walked.
“If you don’t mind I’m gonna grab a hot shower,” Jackie said snapping out of his trance.
“Sure, clean towels are on the rack,” Trish yelled from the kitchen.
Seven minutes later, Jackie O’Shea felt Trish slide up behind him in the steamy shower, wrapping her arms around him, feeling her breasts push against his back. “I’ve got your coffee dream boy.”
They grabbed some lunch at Dave’s Grill on Flamingo Road, surprised it was open with all the snow. “So, do you have to head back dream boy?” Trish finally asked, somewhat apprehensively, afraid of what she knew the answer would be.
“Nope. The boss gave me three days off to do some soul searching.”
“And how’s that working out for you so far?”
“Famously,” he said just before taking another bite of his smoked turkey sandwich.
Sgt Hook out.
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